“‘Love seeketh not her own,’” said Bruno. “That which seeks its own is not love.”
“What is it, Father?” modestly asked Doucebelle.
“It is self-love, my daughter; the worst enemy that can be to the true love of God and man. Real love is unselfish, unexacting, and immortal.”
“But love can die, surely!”
“Saint Paul says the contrary, my daughter.”
“It can kill, I suppose,” said Margaret, in a low tone.
“Yes, the weak,” replied Bruno.
“But, Father, was the holy Apostle not speaking of religious love?” suggested Eva, trying to find a loophole.
“What is the alternative,—irreligious love? I do not know of such a thing, my daughter.”
“But there is a wicked sort of love.”